When Finette opened her eyes she saw by her bedside a tall man dressed in black, with a velvet cap and a sword. It was the seneschal of the barony of Kerver. He stood with his arms folded, gazing at Finette in a way that chilled the very marrow of her bones. "What is your name, vassal?" said he, in a voice of thunder. "Finette, at your service, my lord," replied she, trembling. "Is this house and furniture yours?" "Yes, my lord, everything, at your service." "I mean that it shall be at my service," returned the seneschal, sternly. "Rise, vassal! I do you the honor to marry you, and to take yourself, your person, and your property under my guardianship." "My lord," returned Finette, "this is much too great an honor for a poor girl like me, a stranger, without friends or kindred." "Be silent, vassal!" replied the seneschal. "I am your lord and master; I have nothing to do with your advice. Sign this paper." "My lord," said Finette, "I don't know how to write." "Do you think that I do, either?" returned the seneschal, in a voice that shook the house. "Do you take me for a clerk? A cross--that is the signature of gentlemen." He made a large cross on the paper, and handed the pen to Finette. "Sign," said he. "If you are afraid to make a cross, infidel, you pass your own death sentence, and I shall take on myself to execute it." He drew his heavy sword from the scabbard as he spoke, and threw it on the table. For her only answer, Finette leaped out of the window and ran to the stable. The seneschal pursued her thither, but, on attempting to enter, an unexpected obstacle stopped him. The frightened cow had backed at the sight of the young girl, and stood in the doorway, with Finette clinging to her horns and making of her a sort of buckler. "You shall not escape me, sorceress!" cried the seneschal, and, with a grasp like that of Hercules, he seized the cow by the tail and dragged her out of the stable. "_Abracadabra!_" cried Finette. "May the cow's tail hold you, villain, and may you hold the cow's tail till you have both been around the world together." And behold! the cow darted off like lightning, dragging the unhappy seneschal after her. Nothing stopped the two inseparable comrades; they rushed over mountains and valleys, crossed marshes, rivers, quagmires, and brakes, glided over the seas without sinking, were frozen in Siberia and scorched in Africa, climbed the Himalayas, descended Mont Blanc, and at length, after thirty-six hours of a journey, the like of which had never been seen, both stopped out of breath in the public square of the village.